Right now, your newsfeed is cluttered with this article shared over, and over–and over–again. The very talented Laura Argintar’s latest contribution to Elite Daily, “Why A Jewish Man Makes The Ideal Husband For Any Girl” is another piece that confirms everything our dying grandmothers taught us when their last words were “marry a mensch who makes his latkes with a Cuisinart and not with a cheese grater.” I love this piece as much as I loved my one pair of Century 21-bought Juicy sweatpants in the seventh grade. However, I thought it needed some FYD pizzaz. Here’s an addendum, reminding us why we always like our fro-yo better when it’s kosher 😉 😉 ;).

1. Jewish boys value the nicer material things, like watches and a good manscape. They–especially the ones from Long Island–are the perfect amount of metrosexual.

2. They will never judge you for eating a bagel. They may judge you for eating everything else, but they definitely respect the bagel. Goyim just don’t get the difference between normal carbs and bagel carbs, you know?

3. Also, they will never judge you for putting smelly ingredients, such as lox AND scallion cream cheese AND onion, on that bagel.

4. They know how to properly party: it isn’t a fiesta unless you’re in a room with a minimum of 300 people. His Bar Mitzvah ain’t no cocktail party. It was the royal wedding, bitches.

5. You’ll never have to worry about Jewish boys not wanting kids. They value the necessity of reproduction to keep the tribe alive.

6. He’ll probably make a lot of money (working in finance, the jewelry business, or any other stereotypical profession you want to throw our way) but he’ll also be super cheap frugal with whatever he makes (aside from your Caribbean vacations).

7. When planning your wedding or the Bar/Bat Mitzvahs of your children, it’ll be super easy to agree on a guest list. Even if you’re from different tri-state area states, you know most of the same people in common, anyway.

8. Say the J-word, and Mom will love him.

9. If he goes bald, he can always just wear a kippah, covering up his lack of hair and making him look like an NJB (nice Jewish boy) at the same time! Utilizing the kippah as a two-for-one deal is something us Jews would love to do, anyway.

Right now, your newsfeed is cluttered with this article shared over, and over–and over–again. The very talented Laura Argintar’s latest contribution to Elite Daily, “Why A Jewish Man Makes The Ideal Husband For Any Girl” is another piece that confirms everything our dying grandmothers taught us when their last words were “marry a mensch who makes his latkes with a Cuisinart and not with a cheese grater.” I love this piece as much as I loved my one pair of Century 21-bought Juicy sweatpants in the seventh grade. However, I thought it needed some FYD pizzaz. Here’s an addendum, reminding us why we always like our fro-yo better when it’s kosher 😉 😉 ;).

1. Jewish boys value the nicer material things, like watches and a good manscape. They–especially the ones from Long Island–are the perfect amount of metrosexual.

2. They will never judge you for eating a bagel. They may judge you for eating everything else, but they definitely respect the bagel. Goyim just don’t get the difference between normal carbs and bagel carbs, you know?

3. Also, they will never judge you for putting smelly ingredients, such as lox AND scallion cream cheese AND onion, on that bagel.

4. They know how to properly party: it isn’t a fiesta unless you’re in a room with a minimum of 300 people. His Bar Mitzvah ain’t no cocktail party. It was the royal wedding, bitches.

5. You’ll never have to worry about Jewish boys not wanting kids. They value the necessity of reproduction to keep the tribe alive.

6. He’ll probably make a lot of money (working in finance, the jewelry business, or any other stereotypical profession you want to throw our way) but he’ll also be super cheap frugal with whatever he makes (aside from your Caribbean vacations).

7. When planning your wedding or the Bar/Bat Mitzvahs of your children, it’ll be super easy to agree on a guest list. Even if you’re from different tri-state area states, you know most of the same people in common, anyway.

8. Say the J-word, and Mom will love him.

9. If he goes bald, he can always just wear a kippah, covering up his lack of hair and making him look like an NJB (nice Jewish boy) at the same time! Utilizing the kippah as a two-for-one deal is something us Jews would love to do, anyway.

Earlier today, I was looking online for some FYD-inspiration. Instead, I ended up trolling the big thought-piece websites (Elite Daily, Thought Catalog, Jezebel, and the like) for a solid hour. After digesting the mass load of lists about what I should do in my 20’s, things I should tell my BFF like RN!!, who I should have sex with, and how I can learn to let go of an ex, I couldn’t help but take a step back and realize: we really do eat this shit up like candy. We read content (which, might I add, The FYD even contributes to) that is so empty yet so fulfilling. All right, maybe “empty” isn’t the right word. But it’s stuff we already know–it’s stuff we already feel. We love the internet because it puts into words what, often, we cannot.

My best friends and I are currently dispersed around the country. 50% of our communication is laced into the cutesy articles we Facebook message back and forth on a daily basis. Finding a new one that no one’s sent yet is like finding a puzzle piece or a love letter. These articles, posts, or whatever you’d like to call them, help us confirm and communicate what we’re feelin’. Guess what? Now, we don’t even have to hide behind our iPhone screens to send a passive-aggressive iMessage. We can just send a “20 things” list! If you’re feeling risqué, you can even send an open letter.

Though I can’t really imagine myself ever being passive-aggressive, I love this internet phenomenon almost as much as I love a good pair of overalls. If you don’t feel like joining the movement, I’ll sum up the best of the best for you. Here’s a round up of everything you really need to know about love, dating, sex, and being 20-something as told to you by millennials who write the stuff that always comes up on your Facebook newsfeed:

Only your true best friend knows when you’re pooping, and how good, bad, or average it was.

Loneliness makes us make some pretty bad decisions.

Not every person you’re with has to be someone you want to be with forever.

Sometimes, binge eating is necessary and ok. But when you binge, there is always an underlying reason for it, and that usually means something’s not ok.

Everything happens for a reason.

For some people, eating 4 slices of cake is something you should definitely do. For other people, it isn’t. Just do what makes you happy.

Pay attention in class.

We are born alone, and we die alone, so it’s ok to be alone sometimes. Actually, it’s really good.

Finding “the one” only matters if you find him or her at the right time.

It’s hard, but often necessary, to unlove someone.

You know you’re really close with someone if you can sit in silence together.

Nobody cares when you subtly complain about how little you ate.

You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.

You also really don’t have to wear so much makeup.

When women are alone, they do not wear pants.

When a friend asks you about her outfit, be honest.

And even though the internet is throwing all of this advice at you, telling you how you should feel about being alive, remember that you have a gut (regardless of whether or not you ate the four pieces of cake) and first and foremost, you should always go with that.

Yes, it’s shocking that I’ve never written about J. Biebs before, but it’s also shocking that his downward spiral didn’t start the moment people first compared his looks to those of Ellen Degeneres, Miley Cyrus, or any other token lesbian in pop culture. Whatever, we all surprise ourselves sometimes. And so, the time has come for Justin Bieber to receive the FYD spotlight. Justin is like Eurotart. Technically, he’s yummy enough to be the flavor every week. But you can’t spell “Eurotart” without the “tart” and that’s a fact.

This week, Justin made headlines for his unbelievable performance as a teen sensation that doesn’t talk to anyone politely unless he/she was on Disney at some point or made out with James Franco in Spring Breakers. TMZ released a video showing Biebs being a total dick during deposition with the lawyer of a certain paparazzo who is suing the Bieb Team for assault. Well, if this guy caught up with Kristen Bell’s new charity initiative (#savethefamous), he would know that he was doing serious harm to Bieber in the first place. Justin is so delicate and sensitive. His hobbies include drag racing and Xanax! Justin’s $wag coach should be getting a $eriou$ rai$e because Bieber can really, really put on a show.

To my dismay, Justin Bieber has evolved into somewhat of a joke (can you tell?). It’s a shame because we all thought he was something special when we saw home footage of him playing an acoustic guitar on the streets of Canada. We also all thought that if there was ever a superstar us nice Jewish girls would have the opportunity to sleep with, it would probably be him. I feel like he’d be into the Long Island accents, you know?

My guilty pleasure is eternally Believe Acoustic. Perhaps it’s a subconscious effort to salvage the Justin Bieber we all once knew and loved. In order to preserve the sanctity of the closest thing current sixth graders will ever have to Michael Jackson, let’s recall some of Bieber’s greatest moments…

The music video where he makes a shout out to Selena and we all wished we were her:

After years of some deliberation, I’ve decided it’s pretty much impossible to “be” a girl.

I can start off by talking about the sexual double standard (thank you, sociology prof): the idea that the same action is perceived by the general public completely differently depending on if it was executed by a male or by a female. A guy sleeps around with a lot of girls, his friends applaud. A girl does that, and other girls think she’s disgusting; everyone is well versed in this example. The constant complaint of amateur feminism revolves around the idea of the “slut.”

A girl can be a slut, and not only will guys get with her, but they’ll get with her because of it. They won’t love her and they won’t want to date her. But she’s a dime, right? A guy can be a slut, and girls will be both a-ware and war-y of it. But will they still get with him? Probably. If a man whore wanted to take a girl out, would she hesitate to say yes? No. But let’s be real here: would a guy ask a slut out if he knows she’ll be an easy bang in the first place? Never.

The unrealistic expectations don’t end here. The next topic I’d like to elaborate on is my personal favorite: fashion. We’re supposed to dress “trendy.” And right now, trendy looks a lot like all black, vintage t-shirts, ghetto-fab, rocker-chick-ish, but also polished, put together, and expensive. Naturally, I would take this advice and walk around in ripped boyfriend jeans and a small t-shirt with my black high top Converse 24/7. And, naturally, I do. But most of the time I lack the element of “hot.” It takes one helluva effort to find the perfect mix of Kurt Cobain circa 1992–though most girls who strive for “trendy” have no idea that the MTV Unplugged in New York album even exists–and maybe, like, Kendall Jenner or something. We’ve gotta dress like a tomboy, but in crop tops and skinny jeans. Um, what?

We could never forget the bod. We can’t be too skinny, because then guys won’t like us. But we have to be fit; toned. We have to have some curves in some places–the right places–but not too many. We also have to love food, because we all are striving to be Hilary Duff in A Cinderella Story when she chooses the Big Mac over the rice cake. Besides, Chad Michael Murray likes a girl with a hearty appetite. But then this happens…

…and we all are, like, well, sorry not sorry you’re always too busy talking to the girls who eat the rice cakes.

In the end, it’s all about making it seem like we care and we also don’t care at all. I probably look like I was dressed by a blind person four out of seven days a week. But guess what? I spent forty minutes picking out that outfit in my hot pink fuzzy robe. #Appreciate. It relates to the fact that we ignore your texts for an hour but, to no surprise, were staring at your little “typing” bubble the entire time. Do ya notice the pattern yet?

The fact that perfection consists of so many things makes perfection itself impossible. If perfection wants to really exist, then it should just be one thing that you can hold, or pet, or grab, or something, and when you have it you know exactly what it is and how it feels and what it looks like and then you can just be happy.

I could be wrong. Maybe instead, perfection should change for us. In reality, HA HA. Unfortunately, we know that perfection can never change. There will always be an idea of what we have to do, what we should look like, and who we have to be that exists in girl world. But since it’s so unattainable, then why the hell am I wasting time trying to convince myself to wear normal jeans?

Hilary Duff does everything right. She stayed away from the Hollywood partying scene and survived a childhood of Disney stardom. She brought my alter ego, Lizzie McGuire, to life from 2001 – 2004. Then, she stole our hearts again in Cheaper by the Dozen (after which, every girl wanted a summer internship at Allure post-high school graduation) and in Agent Cody Banks. She dresses like a normal human being. She maintains a normal human figure. And, best of all, she named her son “Luca Cruz.” 10 points to Gryffindor.

In case you didn’t know, I am the go-to resource for all things Hilary Duff and Lizzie McGuire. I may or may not have hoarded Lizzie McGuire Valentine’s cards from third grade that I still have in my desk drawer.

Apparently, we’re not the only ones who feel that Hil kills it in her patched denim and crimped hair. Earlier today, People.com threw up a post about everyone’s elementary school crush, Aaron Carter, wanting to get his girl back. Hilary separated from her husband, hockey player Mike Comrie, earlier this year. Lizzie’s back on the market. And this time, she isn’t looking for a bra.

“Don’t be that stupid d*** that loses the love of your life forever. Like me…” Aaron Carter is having another party, and he wants Hilary to come get it. (See what I did there? Lolz.)

A fan tweeted back to Aaron, asking him if he was talking about Hilary. His response? “Sure am.”

What are we more jealous of: the classic red and silver outfits Lizzie and Miranda wore during the “I Want Candy” (read: Aaron wants Lizzie) video shoot, or the fact that Aaron still has a sweet tooth, ten years later?

Aaron, just letting you know, I also look cute when I’m wrapped in a sweater. In case you’re interested.

Everyone loves to just walk around saying “Ugh, I’m literally so stressed out right now.” Stress is everywhere, embodied in every kvetching student, in every mother of three children, and in every girl who breathes. It is the symbol of our generation that thrives on espresso, that doesn’t really sleep at all, and that has to deal with the most competitive job market and higher education system in the world.

The worst thing about all of this isn’t even how suckish being stressed feels; it’s that everyone is stressed, so no one’s really stressed, and it’s become an acceptable and normal thing to constantly feel like you’re swimming in a kiddie pool with Tilikum (Tilikum, for those of you who are unaware, is the killer whale in the focus of my fav documentary, Blackfish).

Because I’ve been stressed out since I, as a wee newborn, witnessed my mother birth my placenta, I thought I could offer a few tips in dealing with stress.

Do: drink coffee. It’ll keep you going.

Don’t: talk to other people. Because you’re just going to take all of your stress out on them and then you’ll look like a bitch. Of course you probably are a bitch, but it’s best to hide that at all costs and whenever possible.

Also, don’t: talk to your boyfriend. He will inevitably piss you off.

Don’t: be around people who chew and/or breathe loudly. They will also piss you off. And distract you.

Do: yoga. Cliché, yes. But it’s a great way to kind-of work out and kind-of take a nap during shavasana.

Don’t: smoke a cigarette. No matter how cool you think they make you look, they just don’t. They also don’t actually make you less stressed. Post-boge, you still have an overwhelming amount of shit to do so it makes more sense to stop wasting time taking years off your life and instead just like, work!!!

Do, but also don’t: stress eat. Stress is great for binge eaters. If you say you’re stressed while eating a piece of cheesecake at 3pm (ya know, just an afternoon snack!) or while eating an alfredo pasta, pepperoni pizza, and a giant snickerdoodle cookie at 1am (a.k.a. me last Tuesday night #sorrynotsorry), then everyone is like “Oh, ok, you’re off the hook for not trying to mimic Kendall Jenner’s chopstick-like frame at this moment in time.” However, stressing can be a great way to be like “Ahhh my tummy is in such knots! I cannot seem to stomach a thing!” and shed a few pounds.

Do: go to bed early, and do something for yourself before you go to bed. I’m not saying go to sleep at 10pm, but don’t go to sleep at 2am. I usually work until 10:30ish, then whip off my bra immediately (remember, ladies: no bra, no problem), and then get in bed to watch an episode of Girls. Glass of wine, optional.

Though stress is the most chronic illness of ever, it is something that we can combat together. One last tip: cry. Cry a lot. But stay positive! You will get through this! (Ha. Ha. Ha.)